“Sh-sh-she,” he stammered. “She WHAT?” I asked. I hoped my homeowner’s insurance was paid. Then he spit it out: “She wants to know if I like her!”
Whew.
Renee Antonelli Valente
This is no ordinary “she.” She lives two doors down, she’s two years older, and it’s his first crush.
So I sat him down.
“Well buddy,” I said, “you can play this a couple of ways.”
Play? I was surprised at my choice of words, but I had a job to do.
“If you tell her you like her, you run the risk of her saying ‘Eww!’ just to save face” I advised. “However, if you tell her you don’t, you run the risk of breaking her heart and messing up your chance.“
He looked perplexed. He wasn’t the only one. But I forged on.
“My advise is to tell her, “I think you’re cool.’ This way you’ve said something positive but haven’t confirmed nor denied your feelings.”
He then asked if I could throw him some props when she came to the house.
“Of course, buddy,” I promised. “I’ll make you the MAC-Daddy of ‘em all!”
“Fan-TAS-tic” he ran out, screaming. “I knew you’d be the perfect wingman.
What??? I’m a WING-MOM?
Yikes. I wasn’t ready for that.
I know we’re only talking 10 and 12 years old here, but in this day and age -- heck, even in MY day -- that’s possibly only a few years from … well… you know.
But I have to accept it. Just as I kissed posters of Sean Cassidy and Rick Springfield and swooned over Def Leppard when I was 10, 11 and 12, prepubescent kids have genuine feelings they are trying to understand and come to terms with.
So while I was pleased as punch over the fact that he felt comfortable enough to come to me for advice, I was left wondering whether I should have let him come up with his own answer. After all, you learn from your mistakes, right?
Then again, I didn’t go through nearly (cough) 40 years on this earth, learning, sometimes quite painfully, about love and loss and mistakes in the male/female dance to have it all be for nothing. Why couldn’t I delve into my heart’s knowledge base and give my boy some pointers?
Totally convinced I made the right decision, I felt like a superhero. I daydreamed of myself wearing a costume with a big WM on my chest.
Towards the end of the night, as I walked down to the basement, I spotted five neighborhood girls sitting on our couch.
“Daddy’s home!” they screamed at my son, as he stood at the foot of the stairs, smirking and nodding his head.
“Um, what’s going on guys?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“We’re playing family,” one of the girls said, “and he is the Daddy.”
Smiling, my son whispered in my ear: “MAC-Daddy!”
“Oh, no,” I said. “'Wingmom strikes again.”
She moved to Wayne, but this Union (City) Hiller never left her city roots. Renee Antonelli Valente is a true 'tweener', book-ended by a feisty mom in her 70s and her own inquisitive grade-schoolers. Still, she finds time to rock out.
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